


Advent calendar drabble #3

by begformercytwice



Series: Advent Calendar 2012 [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/begformercytwice/pseuds/begformercytwice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's death hits Sebastian hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advent calendar drabble #3

Run. That had been his first thought, when he heard that shot, but he held his ground until he saw the detective jump. He felt nothing from that moment, when his reason to live had put a bullet in his own head; nothing, but the instinct to get as far away as he could, as quickly as he could.

Running had been a way of life for him for as long as he could remember. He’d been eight years old the first time he’d run away from home, and when he couldn’t stand education any more, he’d fled to join the army. When they didn’t want him any more, he’d run once again, to the underworld, and finally into the arms of the man who made him want to stop running, once and for all.

That was all over now, though. When Jim took his own life - just like the stupid, selfish bastard always said he would - Sebastian had no reason to stay. Better to run, anyway; the organisation would fall into chaos, and he’d be the one the police came after when the first of Jim’s underlings turned informant.

As he’d packed away the rifle and strode calmly away, he’d sworn to himself it would be the last time. No more putting his life on the line for the sake of someone else’s petty grievances. No more loyalties, no more obeying orders, no more anything. It would be a quiet, solitary life from there onwards. He’d go where he pleased, do what he pleased, and to hell with everyone else. He’d never stop running.

When the news finally reached him, he was far away, in India, drinking himself to death in a place he’d known many years before. When the boy ran into the bar and whispered to him, the detective was alive, he hadn’t wanted to believe it. All he’d wanted was oblivion, but there was always something to draw him back. The barrel of his rifle called to him every night, but the call was not as strong as this one, the one that told him to avenge Jim, whatever the cost.


End file.
